


IOU

by DaisyChainz



Series: Kylux Adjacents [9]
Category: Kylux adjacents - Fandom, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, The Revenant (2016), Tracks (2013)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cute but smutty, Gratuitous Smut, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, Kylux Adjacent Month 2020, Kylux Adjacent Ship, M/M, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Tent Sex, kylux adjacent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:14:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23825890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyChainz/pseuds/DaisyChainz
Summary: At his yearly Missouri Militia reenactment, Andrew meets photographer Rick. They hit it off,  and favors may be owed . . .
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren, Captain Andrew Henry/Rick Smolin(Tracks)
Series: Kylux Adjacents [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1364965
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27
Collections: Into the Adjacentverse: Kylux Adjacents Month 2020





	IOU

Andrew followed the sound of a hammer on metal, soon followed by the sizzle of heated metal in water. Then the clanging of metal being dropped onto metal. 

The white canvas tent was open to the air, the blacksmith's fire with it's bellows, the anvil, the tall blacksmith himself. Andrew caught his breath and paused, watching the powerful forearms working. His sleeves were rolled back, muscles and veins straining as he held the hot metal with one tool and hit it with another. 

It wasn't the usual blacksmith. No, he was an overweight, older man. Jovial and talkative, but not so easy on the eyes. This man was probably ten years younger than Andrew, tall, fit, dark hair. He had strong features that were backlit by the midafternoon sun, filtering down through the trees surrounding the camp. 

Looking around to make sure no one at the reenactment rendezvous had spotted him ogling the new blacksmith, Andrew continued towards his destination.

"Good afternoon, friend." The blacksmith grinned over at him, pausing only a moment before continuing to shape the nail he currently had on his anvil.

"Good afternoon." Andrew responded, trying not to be affected by the man's rich, deep voice. 

"What can I do for you?"

"Have you got any horseshoes today?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Mr Jennings only taught me how to make nails. If you need something else you're going to have to wait for him to come back." The man grimaced and doused the nail, surrounding him in a cloud of steam. His hair was wild and black, runaway with the extra humidity. 

"No problem." Said Andrew. "I don't actually need it for a horse, so it can wait."

Tossing the nail into the growing pile, the blacksmith set his tools down. Andrew swallowed as he crossed his arms over his chest, accentuating the muscles in his forearms, as well as causing his shirt to fall open further. Andrew had grown to adore the way the period shirts exposed a strong chest. 

He tore his eyes away at the man's response, "so what are you planning to do with one horseshoe, that doesn't involve a horse?" His voice sounded amused and curious. 

His glasses were not an authentic part of the costume, but only a devoted reenactor would go so far as to find prescription period eyewear. Andrew watched the man's, very, large hand push the glasses back up onto his nose. "I simply wanted to take one home to hang near my house. Good luck, and all." He smiled and the man smiled back. "I'm Andrew, by the way. Oh, excuse me: Captain Andrew Henry. At your service."

"Rick, temporary blacksmith" the man's hand enveloped Andrew's and, he imagined, held on a little longer than necessary. "Nice to met you uh, Captain. I'm sorry I can't help you. But Mr Jennings will be back tomorrow. Will you still be here?"

"Oh yes, I'm always here for the whole rendezvous. My great-grandfather served in the Missouri Militia during the Civil War. He was part of one of the Bushwacking units that fought the marauding Confederates."

Rick looked impressed. "Wow, your great-grandfather, huh? That's nice that you can come out and uh, bushwack? In his place."

Laughing, Andrew stepped a little closer. Rick watched him and didn't move away. "Bushwacking was guerrilla warfare during the Civil War. Some of the units were little more than highway thieves, and it was hard for either government to keep track of which ones were even legitimate. But it's lucky for me my Great-granddad was in one."

"Why is that?"

"Because while the Federal government supplied the Missouri Militia with arms, it was a 'bring your own horse' operation."

Rick's eyes danced with laughter. "Ah, and I'm guessing since you're hanging horseshoes in trees--you don't have a horse."

"Ding, ding, ding, give the man a prize." Andrew grinned. "I don't have a horse. Luckily though," he shrugged his shoulder with the gun strap, "I do have this." He turned so Rick could admire the rifle hanging there. "A replica of my great-grandfather's gun."

Rick took a step closer, admiring the piece. "It's beautiful. Is that a Lorenz?"

Giving him an impressed look, Andrew nodded. "It is. You know your percussion lock muzzle loaders?" He unslung it. "You can hold it if you like."

Rick put his hands up, waving him off. "Oh no, no. I'm sorry, I've never handled one before. I've only photographed them."

"You're a photographer?"

"Yes, for National Geographic."

Eyebrows even higher, Andrew re-shouldered the gun. "Wow. That's sounds like an adventurous life. Is that why you're here?"

Shaking his head, Rick leaned in to get a closer look at the rifle. "This is absolutely gorgeous work." He straightened, adjusting his glasses again. "No, I'm actually not taking pictures this weekend. I wanted to get a taste of life on the other side of the lens for once. You know, actually do something instead of photographing someone else doing it."

"Ah," nodded Andrew. "I understand. Well, blacksmithing is definitely doing something." Suddenly he felt a little reckless, the anonymity of the weekend going to his head. "You're certainly built right for the job."

There was a long pause as he waited for Rick's response, for a second wondering what exactly he had done. He felt relief, and anticipation, wash through him as Rick gave him a shy smile. "Oh, well, thank you. I'd make you that horseshoe if I could."

"I'm certain in no time you'll be making loads of horseshoes. You can owe me one." Andrew wanted to wink at him, but he kept the strange madness at bay that much, at least. 

Nodding, Rick smiled at him. He looked like he was going to say something else when they both turned at the sound of approaching voices. Trying to act quickly, before anyone stopped by or he lost his sudden nerve, Andrew said "will you be at the dinner tonight? We could talk more then."

"Yeah," Rick nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, I was thinking of staying for that. I'll be there."

"Good." Said Andrew, as he backed out of the tent, keeping his eyes on Rick. "See you tonight." Then he turned tail and ran. 

He stopped by his tent, hoping to catch his breath in some small amount of privacy. Did he just make a date with a complete stranger? At a rendezvous? He held his hands out, they were shaking, but just a little. He needed to pull himself together, there was another reenactment before the dinner, and he needed to be there for that. 

As he clenched his fists and calmed his breathing, he suddenly realized he was half-hard in his loose uniform pants. He truly hoped that he had not misread Rick. 

*** **

After the battles and demonstrations were completed for the day, there was a campfire dinner for all the volunteers and participants. 

When Andrew saw Rick again he was already sitting on a log with his metal plate loaded with the beans and the pork that had been cooking all day. A rough metal cup sat beside him on the ground. 

Andrew sat next to him and motioned to the mug. "What are they serving to drink?"

Rick frowned down at it, "actually, I dunno. Someone just handed it to me."

Andrew waggled his fingers at him. "Let me taste."

Handing him the mug, he watched closely as Andrew took a sip. His eyes never left Rick's. "It's beer." He handed it back and Rick took a drink as well. Andrew shrugged. "It's not bad." The look on Rick's face suggested the jury was still out on that. 

Andrew got his own plate of food and mug of beer, and they say on the log and talked until after it was dark. Rick took their dirty plates and forks to the mess tent to be washed, and Andrew got them each another beer. Apparently it had grown on Rick. 

Rick shared some of his travels, talking of strange lands and people and customs. He asked Andrew many questions about the rendezvous, and more of the history surrounding the Missouri Militia. 

All the time they drifted closer to each other, until they were practically pressed together. In the firefight surrounding them, there was a fiddle playing, and dancing that grew more raucous the more beer was poured. But they didn't hear or see any of it. 

Finally, Andrew's lips had drifted close enough to Rick's ear he could breath into it "would you like to come back to my tent?"

Rick turned and looked at him closely. In the darkness between them, Andrew ran the backs of his fingers along the outside of Rick's thigh. With a quick glance down, Rick nodded. "Yeah."

They stood and, trying not to be too obvious, walked back towards Andrew's tent. He held the flap for Rick to go in, then followed and secured it as best as a cloth flap could be. 

He straightened and Rick was right there in front of him. He stood looking at him in the faint light through the white canvas sides, but he didn't move. 

Andrew lifted a hand to his cheek, brushed his fingers along it. Rick's eyes fluttered shut and he chased the touch. The motion made the air catch in Andrew's chest and he kissed him without any more thought. 

Immediately, Rick responded. He took the half step forward that pressed their chests together, his shyness vanishing as his tongue eagerly pressed against Andrew's lips. 

He opened for him, now using his hands to latch onto Rick's ample and firm upper arms. He pulled Rick even closer as the other man delved into his mouth with his tongue. 

Sitting so closely had already made Andrew very aware of Rick's body. He was fit, and powerful, and Andrew couldn't wait to get a better look and, even more, to get his hands on him. He pulled the loose shirt up, Rick raising his arms and helping remove it. 

"Ahhhh," breathed Andrew, running his hands over Rick's bare chest. It was even better than the loose shirt had promised. Strong, well sculpted, Andrew squeezed and slid his way over it, finally moving his hands down over the tight abdomen. "Beautiful," he whispered against Rick's mouth. 

In response Rick wrapped his arms around him and pulled him closer. He pressed their mouths together and ground his hips against Andrew's. 

Andrew slid his hands back up and buried them into Rick's thick black hair. "Oh yes," he moaned, pressing back against Rick. They rolled their hips together, lips and tongues busy, Rick's hands grasping at Andrew's ass. 

Both were breathing heavily, trying not to make too much noise. The party outside was loud and in full-swing, but the tent walls would do nothing to stop sound from carrying. 

If nothing, the danger of being overheard made Andrew's heart beat even faster. He allowed Rick to hold him in place as he ground against him, the feel of Rick's hard cock sending electricity shooting through him. Rick broke the kiss and mouthed along Andrew's jaw, his mustache disturbing the stubble that had formed since he had shaved that morning. Andrew let out a long shiver as Rick ran his tongue along his neck.

He finally managed to pull away just enough to see Rick's face in the dimness. "Sit on the cot." He instructed. 

As much as it was a pain to set up, Andrew was suddenly thankful for the sturdy wooden cot he had made his bed upon. Rick sat on the edge, never taking his eyes off. The sound of their breathing was loud in each other's ears as Andrew made room for himself between Rick's knees, and knelt there. 

Andrew undid the old fashioned fastenings of the costume pants and was delighted to discover that Rick had on nothing underneath. "Oh my." He breathed as he reached in and pulled out Rick's magnificent cock. Rick shuddered as Andrew handled him, and watched with wide eyes as he lowered his head to take him in. 

He wanted it too much to take it slowly, take his time. Within moments Andrew was hungrily swallowing him down, withdrawing and quickly coming back for more. Rick's hand was in his hair, grasping. When his grip became too tight, Andrew gave a sharp shake of his head. The fingers loosened and Rick mumbled "sorry. Sorry." His voice was rough. 

Andrew continued his ministrations until Rick finally coaxed him off, his eyes wild and breathing strained when Andrew looked up at him, questioning. 

"Didn't want it to be over that fast." He explained as he slid off the cot, joining Andrew on the floor. He pulled his glasses off and laid them on the cot. He pulled Andrew until he was straddling his lap, then found the shape of him through his own pants. Gasping, Andrew found himself pushing up into Rick's hand. Once, twice, three times, then he paused, panting. 

"Do that again," Rick gasped into his ear. Andrew did, getting a rhythm of sorts going with his hips. Rick's hand was huge, and enveloped almost all of him. Andrew was holding himself up with his hands on Rick's shoulders, and they were both watching the movement of his hips sliding under Rick's grasp. 

Finally he couldn't take it anymore. He pushed aside Rick's hand and undid his own pants. He had barely gotten himself out when Rick's hot skin had surrounded him again. 

"Oh my God." He gasped. "Oh, you feel so good." Rick's grip was just right, giving just enough friction as he passed through it. 

Rick had bent his knees and Andrew leaned his hands back on them. It gave him better leverage, and a better view. It was dark, but he could still clearly see Rick shifting his fingers as he thrust up. Rick's free hand slid over Andrew's thigh, and down. Andrew's breath caught as the hand followed the line of of his groin further down. His long fingers brushed his balls, pushed past his perineum and grazed dry over his ass. 

Andrew gasped and threw his head back, closing his mouth the reduce the groan to a hum through his nose. His dick throbbed once, a warning that everything would soon be over if he didn't get himself under control. He settled back onto Rick's lap, breathing noisily.

Watching him intently, Rick circled his finger across Andrew's ass. "I want you." His voice was little more than just a rumble in his chest. "God I want you. I don't have any lube." He pushed his own hips up, his dick bobbing over his stomach. 

Shaking his head, Andrew mumbled regretfully, "neither do I."

Straightening his legs just a little, he caused Andrew to fall further back, watching his hands as they were still moving over Andrew's most sensitive places. Then he released him and ran both hands up the insides of Andrew's thighs. 

"Can I have your thighs?"

"There's still no lube." Reminded Andrew quietly. 

"That's ok." Rick leaned up and Andrew met him for a kiss. They drew apart panting, dicks brushing together again. "I just wanna feel you around me."

Gulping, Andrew went willingly as Rick's hands guided him out of his clothes and onto his hands and knees. He was grateful for the rug that protected him from the bare ground. He still had to shift away from a couple of sharp rocks underneath.

Settling behind him, Rick ran his hands over Andrew's skin. They caressed gently across his ass and over his back. He laid over his back, leaning one hand on the ground. He breathed over his the back of his neck, causing a shiver to run through Andrew. Rick's dick was slotted between his ass cheeks, his hips circling slowly. A thin sheen of sweat was forming where Rick's front moved over Andrew's back, the warm night air stuffy inside the tent. 

Finally, Rick sat back up on his knees, teasingly drawing his dick down between Andrew's ass cheeks, over his ass and fitting under his own dick. 

Andrew looked back over his shoulder in time to see Rick spitting into his hand, felt the dampness as he smoothed it between his thighs. Then his large hands pressed on the outside of his legs, encouraging him to close around him. Andrew moved willingly, feeling Rick's head moving under his balls, bumping against his dick where it hung heavily. 

Then Rick started to move. The rhythm alone, with Rick's hand gripping his hips was enough to make Andrew moan. Just the head of his dick was rubbing over him, back and forth, steadily. Rick's breaths were heavy, his motions speeding. Andrew lifted one hand to pull at his dick, matching Rick's movements. 

Andrew was almost at his orgasm, the pleasure balled up tightly in his pelvis, his muscles already twitching, when Rick let out a gasp and came. Feeling his hot come across his balls and dripping down his thighs pushed Andrew over the edge. Moaning through his nose, one more time, Andrew joined him. His hand sped over his pulsing cock, head tucked down between his shoulders. His thighs tightened further, Rick still thrusting into them, though he had to be getting oversensitive. 

They finally, slowly, ground to a stop, frozen and panting. They managed to pry their hands loose: Rick from Andrew's hips, Andrew from his dick. Rick slid his own softening dick from between Andrew's still-clenched thighs. He sighed as he went. 

Rick sat back on his heels as Andrew allowed himself to collapse to one side, rolling onto his back. He was too breathless and satisfied for the hard ground to bother him yet. 

Rick leaned over and grabbed his shirt off the ground, using it to clean Andrew's hand and between his legs. He wiped himself off enough to pull his pants back up, but he didn't fasten them. Then he laid down beside Andrew, tucking himself against his side. It was an oddly intimate gesture, but Andrew supposed intimate was what they were. 

Rick's chin was on his shoulder, and his hand traced over his chest and stomach, idly. Andrew reached up and ran his fingers through those dark curls. "Your shirt," he chuffed. "You may have ruined it."

Rick's answer was low, right in his ear. His breath tickled it a little and blew his hair. "A quick rinse will get me back to my car."

"Car? Are you not sleeping in camp?"

"No, I managed to get a hotel room. It's about 15 miles up the road."

Andrew lifted his head enough to give him a look. He collapsed back down. "You have a hotel room?"

"Yeah? But it's a ways down the road."

"With a bed, I presume?" He asked, as they lay on the hard ground, whispering over the music and drinking outside. 

"Oh. I'm sorry I, I wasn't really thinking very clearly. When you asked me back here I couldn't think about anything but getting my hands on you."

Andrew huffed a laugh. "I suppose I could have asked. It's just as well. We would probably have only made it as far as your car if we had tried. At least this way we had some semblance of privacy."

Nuzzling his nose behind Andrew's ear, Rick said, "on the bright side, I owe you so much now you're sure to want to collect."

"How much do you owe me, exactly?" Andrew sounded interested. 

Rick moved his hand down, brushing Andrew's dick. It twitched with interest even though he knew there was no chance of revival for a while. "My dick in your ass, in a real bed." Andrew gave half a moan that turned into a chuckle when Rick added, "and a single horseshoe."

"Well." Andrew rolled to face Rick, his hand sliding over his shoulder to pull then closer together. He breathed over his lips before he kissed him again, "then I suppose I had better decide when I'm going to collect."

Suddenly, Andrew winced as a rock dug into his back. "You have a hotel room, you said?"


End file.
